


At Arm's Length

by lilhawkeye3



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aka Reader can be any gender, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, CC-3636 | Wolffe Needs A Hug, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Literally In The First Chapter, M/M, Major Character Injury, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Mutual Pining, Other, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, but so does reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26390059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilhawkeye3/pseuds/lilhawkeye3
Summary: Wolffe may not seem to accept you as part of the 104th, but you’re still one of the Pack— even if you prove so at the highest price. Now he has to set things right before it's too late. [Commander Wolffe x gender neutral Jedi Reader]
Relationships: CC-3636 | Wolffe/Reader, CC-3636 | Wolffe/You, Plo Koon & Reader
Comments: 21
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Better settle in, Reader-- you're in for a rollercoaster of feels.
> 
> The Reader is referred to with "they/them" pronouns to be inclusive to all of you :) Please let me know if I ever slip up anywhere!

You may be a senior Padawan, but you still work alongside your former Master with his battalion. After all, where better to assign a proficient healer than with one of the GAR’s main aid regiments? You weren’t about to complain.

Or rather, you tried to see the best in the situation and not complain, because you’d seen the hardships of the many people your Master’s battalion had helped… even if your fellow commander hated your guts and thus kept you apart from ever truly getting to know the men you worked alongside with.

He’d been like that since the very beginning, even when his colors were red instead of gray. Never speaking to you more than needed, always with a fierce scowl and usually only when on duty. Only calling you “Commander” or “Padawan,” never even using your last name. His coldness has caused many of the men to consequently be wary of you and avoid interacting outside of duties. Sure, you did have a few of them you considered friends— coincidentally, some of them the men closest to Commander Wolffe— but it still _hurt_ to be kept apart from the rest of the battalion.

You tried not to let your Master see how much the isolation wounded you, especially after you’d accidentally walked back into a briefing room after forgetting your datapad and seen Master Plo with his hand on Wolffe’s shoulder, calling him _ad._

No, you’d survive the Commander’s punishment by yourself, even if you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve it. He was the true leader of the battalion, anyways— you shouldn’t even be there.

* * *

This day starts out similar to any other.

You and Commander Wolffe are jointly leading a delivery of food and medical supplies to the outskirts of a war-torn city on a Mid Rim planet. The people there are easier to work with than most and hold no hatred towards the Jedi, so you’re able to take charge with the medicine distribution as you work through healing the most severely injured brought to you. It’s gratifying work, and you’re happy to see the spark of hope that you’re able to bring to your patients’ eyes.

You’ve just wrapped up with the last of them and have fallen back into a more supervising mode as you try and catch your breath. Healing is strenuous work, and you’d recently found yourself pushing further than you really should. The exhaustion rarely ever leaves your bones anymore.

It seems you’ll be unable to have any reprieve, however, and you try to hold in a sigh as you see Commander Wolffe approaching you. “Commander?” You ask, trying to fix your stance to hide your weariness.

He doesn’t seem to notice it. “Got any reason for just standing around?” He huffs, and you can clearly hear the poorly hidden ire in his tone. “Tryin’ to make the place look _pretty_?”

His scornful addition only serve to further frustrate you, and you try to keep yourself calm, knowing he’s probably looking for a fight. “I only needed a moment to myself, Commander. I Force-healed more civilians today than I have in the same time frame before…” You trail off for a moment to catch your breath, but he takes advantage of your pause.

“You think you’re the only one who’s working your shebs off right now?” He growls, leaning slightly towards you. “Well, suck it up—”

Your eyes narrow and you take a step towards him. “Excuse me, as I was _saying_ , if I try to help any more right now, I will suffer from Force-exhaustion and pass out. Either way, I’d only get in the way if I try to help the men now.”

He begins to speak, his frustration palpable both in his bright Force signature and his low voice. You’re unable to focus on what exactly he’s saying though, as something on the outskirts of your senses catches your attention. You look around discretely, trying to figure out where it’s coming from.

“—are you even _listening_? You can’t even take this seriously—”

And then you feel it— something on the edge of your senses, a warning through the Force. Your reaction is instinctive and while you start moving before you fully comprehend why, your mind is at peace with your path.

You throw yourself in front of Wolffe just in time to take the shots meant for him.

His helmet may be on, but you can feel the tidal wave of shock and anger and, to your surprise, _fear_ course through him as his arms wrap around your waist when you begin to fall forward into his chest. He cradles you against his plastoid armor as he drags you toward the ground, out of range of any following shots. It’s a good thing he does, as somewhere above the growing static in your ears, you hear the sound of more blasterfire erupting.

The fire spreads through your chest with every breath you suck in, and you find your eyes locking onto the gray paint strokes on his helmet as the Commander barks out orders to the men. You try and focus on that as the pain threatens to make you cry out, and consequently it takes several frantic shouts of your name— your _actual_ name— for you to hazily move your gaze to where you know Wolffe’s eyes are staring back at you.

“You’re going t’be fine,” he says, shifting his hold on you so that you’re tipped more securely against his chest. “General Plo is clearing the path for us to get you out of here.” His fingers slightly tighten on you. “You stay with me, yeah? Just keep fighting, y’hear me?”

You don’t have the energy to give more than a slight nod, but you’re still able to sob as Wolffe stands and begins to run with you in his arms. Each step jostles you against his armor, making the pain worse. He tries to counter it with a constant low murmur of apologies and repetitions of your name to ensure you’re still awake, which you desperately grab onto as a distraction.

It becomes too much at a certain point, and you must pass out in agony somewhere in his flight, because the next thing you’re aware of is opening your eyes to find the durasteel ceiling of a LAAT/i above you as you’re lifted onto the craft in a cot. A moan escapes your lips unbidden as consciousness returns the pain at heightened levels, and you shut your eyes tight in an effort to keep your tears from spilling. You’re their commander. You can’t show the extent of your injury. Your men have suffered worse than this.

And yet, as each breath becomes shallower and more difficult to inhale, you find yourself crying out desperately and weakly. “Wolffe…”

Your left hand has begun to clench tightly at your light gray robes as you swallow the worst of your cries, but time stands still once more when an armored hand gently eases your hold on the fabric and weaves their fingers through yours instead. Their other hand finds your forehead and rests there lightly. The comforting gestures don’t lessen your agony, but they offer a mental reprieve from it, if only for a few moments.

The rational side of you knows this isn’t the Commander. He would never abandon his men while they’re still fighting, and besides, he can hardly stand the sight of you.

But the other half of you that can feel yourself dying takes control of the moment as it tries to distract you from your fear by letting you pretend that for just a few seconds, Wolffe was with you and he _cared._

Besides, who would it harm? As your eyes began to flicker shut despite the frantic shouts of the trooper clutching your hand—Comet, you recognized— you doubted you’d be opening them again anyways.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Transperisteel" is a stupid word and I'm still mad at George Lucas for its creation lmao

You were so still.

Even as you floated gently in the bacta tank, your hair haloing your head ethereally, he couldn’t get over how lifeless you looked.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You were a healer, a Jedi. You were supposed to be safe.

You were supposed to be safe the farthest away from him.

And yet the minute you’d stepped near him, you’d nearly died.

 _Still was time for that to happen,_ a part of him darkly whispered. Even if you made it out of the bacta tank, you’d only be hurt again if you got too close to him. Your death was inevitable near him.

“They called out for you, y’know.”

Wolffe tried not to flinch as Comet’s voice came from over his shoulder without any warning. He waited for his brother to stop and stand next to him before speaking. “What?”

Comet sighed. “On the LAAT/i. They called out for you… when I tried to distract from the pain, I think they thought I was you for a moment.” He fell into silence for a moment. “They called for you despite thinking you hate them.”

“I don’t—“ Wolffe began, but his words caught in his throat at what a blatant lie it’d be. He’d seen how many of his brothers avoided you solely because he did so. He’d never mentioned it was to selfishly try and protect you, and had silently allowed the ostracization to continue.

He was a kriffing coward.

“You karked up,” Comet clipped shortly. Wolffe could tell he was angry— angry at him, at the situation, at feeling helpless to do anything for you. You’d grown closest with Comet, followed by Boost and Sinker. He knew it was mostly due to them being bold enough to ignore Wolffe’s unspoken order.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Wolffe muttered after a moment, his eyes drifting back to your face. He wondered if you always looked so peaceful when you were asleep, and felt a twinge of guilt at the realization he was probably the cause of much of the stress that was ever-present in your waking expressions. “They might not wake up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his brother wince at his statement, and yet Comet still nudged his arm in a show of support. “Heat said he didn’t know _when_ they’d wake up. Not if.”

Wolffe bit his tongue to keep his mouth shut. He’d known what the Wolfpack’s chief medic had said. He also knew what your official charts said. One of them had been biased to give his brothers hope, and it wasn’t the charts.

“Has the General been updated?” He settled on asking instead. He could focus on his professional duties. Those were safe waters.

“He’s been conferring with the Council and contacting the Jedi healers at the Temple to see if their Force exhaustion may be hindering their healing.”

Wolffe shut his eyes, not able to look at your limp body any longer after the reminder of what you’d told him just before you’d been shot. You’d known you were weaker than normal, and yet you’d risked trading your life for his.

Your life for a clone’s.

He needed to get out of the medbay. Even though you were still clinging to life, your ghost was already haunting him here.

“I’ll go give him my report then,” Wolffe said curtly, shoving his helmet back on before spinning on his heel to make his way out of the sterile, white room. Not for the first time, he was grateful for the plastoid that shielded his face— it kept him from explaining his expressions to others… or himself.

_“Vod.”_

He paused mid-step as Comet called after him and waited silently to hear what he had to say.

“ _When_ they wake up, you need to fix this. They didn’t deserve any of this.”

Wolffe’s shoulders tensed at the heavy weight that dropped onto his conscience. He knew you didn’t. It’s why he’d chosen the lesser of two evils by building a wall between you and him. He hadn’t expected it to crumble on top of you.

It was best he keep his distance. Hopefully then you’d have a chance at surviving.

“Keep an eye on them, _vod’ika_ ,” he muttered before he strode away, leaving you behind.

* * *

Comet stared after his brother with growing frustration. Wolffe wasn’t normally one to run from an obstacle, and yet here he was, doing just that.

He turned back towards your bacta tank and rested his hand against the transperisteel with a sigh. “He cares, I promise. He’s just going about it the wrong way.” He gave a half-hearted grin. “We’ll get through to him, _alor’ika_. It’s the least we can do for you.”

For a moment, he thought he could feel your fingers playfully ruffling his hair before the feeling faded into the aether.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're not as alone in the universe as you think you are.

You’re drifting.

Your mind floats somewhere between awake and asleep as the world continues around you like a river surging around a lone rock. In these moments, you just exist.

Unless you don’t anymore. Maybe this is what becoming one with the Force feels like: being aware of the universe continuing on its path while you remain in a haze.

It’s hours later— or maybe days, could even be years, you can’t remember how time passes— when you feel a familiar presence brush against yours. It’s fierce and burning, but exudes warmth like a flame, despite the fear and guilt and grief that’s making it flicker. It’s a curiosity to you, but just like an insect, you can’t help but be drawn to its light.

There’s voices around you— at least, you think there are. They could just be figments of your imagination… but something about them feels too unpredictable to be products of your mind.

Besides, from the snippets you were able to hold on to, they were probably aimed at you anyways.

**_You karked up… you need to fix this._ **

And yet… you don’t feel as if anything needed to be fixed. Wolffe was alive, and you’re no longer a nuisance to him, the battalion, or your Master. A net win for the galaxy, you suppose.

**_Keep an eye on them._ **

The presence you’ve been so focused on began to move away, so you turn your attention to the steady, pulsing light that remains behind. You’ve been so enthralled by the first life that you hadn’t even noticed the second, and you instinctively reach out in apology.

This one surprises you, however, as it seemed to brighten as you brush against it soothingly. The response makes you wish you could remain longer, but by now you felt yourself tiring, your hold weakening.

You withdraw back into yourself and let your mind rest.

* * *

The next thing that triggers your awareness is a strong Force presence close to yours. Its calming thrum ebbed and flowed like the tide, as if it were lapping against you carefully, seeking any form of response. You let it continue for a little longer before meeting it with a cautious extension of your own signature.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that you found yourself being cocooned in your Master’s presence, and yet, despite your general present detachment from emotions, a part of you fills with longing. It’s been so long since he’d comforted you in such a fashion.

 ** _My padawan_**. That was certainly his voice ringing softly through your oblivion. **_Can you hear me?_**

It takes several moments for you to summon energy to respond. **_Hello, Master._**

 _ **You gave us quite the fright, young one**_. His tone is filled with palpable relief, something that has you confused.

**_I’m not sure what you mean. Aren’t I dead?_ **

You think he chuckles despite not feeling any humor come from him. **_No. You’ve been in a bacta tank for 16 hours. Medic Heat and the Jedi healers think it is time for you to be taken out to recover more naturally._**

 ** _Oh._** Your reply is soft as he coaxes you further towards the waking world. _**Alright.**_

**_Open your eyes, young one._ **

The world is a murky sea of blue-green as you awake to find yourself surrounded by bacta. It takes a moment to gather your surroundings, but you quickly focus on your Master’s form where he stands in front of your rank, his taloned hand pressed against the transparent surface.

You manage a small smile before the medic team begins the process of pulling you out.

* * *

Master Plo waits at the edge of the room as you’re settled into a hospital bed and hooked up to several monitoring and regulating machines. Once Heat declares you settled and the medics leave the room, he comes to stand at your bedside.

“ _Wolffe_ — is he alright?” Your voice is raspy from nearly a day of disuse when you break the silence.

Master Plo dips his head in affirmation. “Commander Wolffe was unharmed.” His voice is filled with pride as he continues. “What you did was very brave, my padawan. You truly have the selfless heart of a healer.”

You’d shrug if you weren’t hooked up to so many wires. “I just…” You trail off lamely as you search for a suitable answer. “I just reacted.”

“Hmm.” His hum is ambiguous in meaning to you, so you try not to dwell on it as you sink further into your pillows. “I believe there is an overdue conversation we need to have, young one. But it will wait until after you have recovered.”

You try to keep your expression light as your Master caresses your knee reassuringly despite the pool of dread that begins to settle in your stomach. Perhaps your time on the ship was truly limited due to your actions. Still, as sleep began to embrace you, you couldn’t find it within yourself to regret what you’d done.

Wolffe was alive. You could rest knowing you’d succeeded.

“Okay, Master,” you mumble before finally letting your eyes flutter shut.

* * *

Plo Koon softly sighed as he watched you sink into a peaceful slumber, the rhythmic beeping of the machines in the room thankfully keeping him from being left in utter quiet.

An overdue conversation, indeed. He shouldn’t have put off beginning your final training for your Knighting for so long. He’d seen too many inexperienced Jedi lost to this war, and had wanted to keep you safe for as long as he could.

This had been a rude wake-up call for him, however, and Plo finally had to face the reality their lives had become. Even he could not keep you safe.

What kind of Master did that make him?

Apparently, one who was able to raise a bright child into a caring and courageous adult.

He couldn’t have been prouder of you.

Plo snapped out of his thoughts as his vambrace communicator beeped. He answered it hastily. “This is General Koon.”

“General, you’re needed on the bridge.”

“I will be there shortly,” he promised before switching it off. Not for the first time, he loathed his wartime duties, now because they kept him from staying at his padawan’s side.

But your life was not the only one under his care anymore. You were safe, and he needed to focus on his troops for the time being.

“Rest easy.” He reached out to softly stroke the top of your head. Maybe you subconsciously recognized his affectionate touch, as your body relaxed further in your sleep.

You would be alright for now.

Plo reluctantly exited your room, the door quietly sliding shut behind him as he made his way back towards the head of his ship.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolffe's greatest enemy is himself.

He shouldn’t have been there.

He didn’t really know why he was there either, standing next to your bed as you slept, so stiff that he could’ve been in official parade rest.

You still looked so peaceful— well, if he ignored the wires and drips hooking you up to the machines beside you.

It was his fault they were there.

General Koon had alerted them all earlier that you’d awoken and been removed from the bacta tank, a sure sign that you’d make a full recovery in time. Wolffe had done his best to show nothing but support to his General, but he couldn’t ignore the overwhelming relief that soothed him at the news. He’d come here after clocking out, just to make sure with his own eyes that you were indeed alright.

That his mistakes hadn’t cost another life.

He focuses on the steady rise and fall of your chest as you doze, Comet’s earlier admonishments running through his mind. That he needed to fix this. You deserved an apology, at least.

Wolffe has never been good with words. That was something he always left for Cody, or even Fox— the more… administrative of their batch. Wolffe’s talents lay in action: in planning maneuvers, thinking on his feet during battle, wracking up some of the highest kill counts during training.

~~And the highest death counts in the war, seeing as no other commander had lost an entire battalion and lived to tell the tale.~~

But Comet is better at words, and closer to you than Wolffe ever will be. So as he stands guard over you, he begins to try and string his thoughts together into something worthy.

“I don’t hate you.“

Well that’s a great way to start out. A+ for him. He’s already frustrated with himself.

“I’ve… never hated you. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Silence.

“You were safer when I kept you away from me,“ he whispers. “I thought it was the right choice. To protect you is… we’re taught to protect our _jetii_ no matter the cost. All of us would die for the General.”

His fingers tighten into a fist as he fights to speak his next words into existence, into a place where he can no longer ignore their truth.

“I would die for the General… but I would willingly condemn myself to this half-life to see you live.”

* * *

You’re not sure if the voice you’re hearing are a product of reality or your dream world, so you allow yourself to wake up slowly, letting the deep timbre lull you into a relaxed state. The sounds is comforting even if you’re not coherent enough to register a single word that’s been said. Although, maybe you should have, seeing as your eyes blearily open to find Commander Wolffe as the only other one in the room.

You raise a hand to rub at your eyes, but only get so far before you feel the tug of the IV in your wrist, urging you to lay you arm down again. Your movement has caught Wolffe’s attention, though, and you try to give him a smile as he takes a cautious step closer to you.

A warm tingling spreads throughout your chest as he calls you by your name. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you try and answer, but your wince as you try and draw in a deeper breath is met with an unimpressed stare. A flicker of guilt washes over Wolffe’s face before it disappears just as quickly, and you’re left wondering if you imagined it.

“Obviously that’s not true,” he points out, crossing his arms as he waits for an honest answer.

You avert your eyes from his to instead look at your hands as you fidget with the sheet covering you. “Very sore and tired,” you reluctantly admit. “I should be alright as long as I don’t move too much for a while.”

Wolffe huffs, and you glance over to see him running a hand down his face, his eyes shut in frustration. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“What?”

“You shouldn’t have jumped in front of the shots,” he clarifies gruffly, his hand clenching into a fist as he re-crosses his arm over his armored chest.

Your brow furrows in confusion. “But if I hadn’t, you would’ve died!”

“I didn’t _ask_ to be saved!” He snaps angrily.

_Oh._

His words hang in the air like a poisonous gas that threatens to suffocate you both with their meaning. You curse yourself as you felt your eyes beginning to fill with tears, but what else was to be expected? You’re exhausted and hurt and now, to have him throw your actions in your face while you were so vulnerable—

It would seem that alive or dead, you can’t please him.

Wolffe’s expression morphs into one of regret and horror near instantaneously, his posture losing all tension as he reaches out a shaky hand and steps towards you. “Wait, that’s not what I—“

“What did I ever do to deserve such hate from you?” You whisper brokenly. Wolffe begins to say your name, but you cut him off. “Please, just… go. I can’t take any more pain.” You shift to be curled in on yourself facing away from him, so he couldn’t see your face as you begin to cry.

You aren’t sure how long he remains before he silently leaves the room.

* * *

Comet and Sinker find you like this an hour later when they come to check on you and bring you some food. They hold you as you try and piece yourself back together.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The General gets involved.

He really should’ve seen this coming from a mile away.

Hindsight was 20/20.

Wolffe staggered back at the hit, his hand flying up to cup at his nose as his eyes met Comet’s feral snarl. By the wet feeling against his fingers and shooting pain across his face, he knew immediately that Comet had broken it.

“I _told_ you to fix this,” Comet hissed, taking a step towards him. Wolffe refused to give any further ground, but he did guiltily avert his eyes.

“Yeah.”

His admission only served to increase Comet’s rage. “I told you to _fix things_ and THIS IS WHAT YOU DO?!“ He pointed angrily in Wolffe’s face to regain his attention. “Do you know what they said to us?” Wolffe stayed silent, and Comet growled in response. “They’re thinking about transferring back to the Temple!!”

“Wolffe… you did mess up here,” Sinker agreed from his place behind Comet, though with much less anger. “They were a wreck. It seems you only confirmed your hatred of them in their eyes.”

Wolffe stared blankly at his feet, his shoulders hunched in. “Maybe it’s better if they go. They’ll be safer away from the front—“

Comet lunges towards him ready to strike again, but Wolffe was able to block his blow this time. “You don’t get to make that decision for them! Just like _you_ don’t get to throw them saving _your life_ back in their face!!”

“Oh, dear…”

All three troopers’ eyes widened at the saddened sound of their General’s voice. He stood imposingly in the doorway, Boost peeking out from behind him and giving a half-hearted shrug in response to Wolffe’s grimace.

“Is that what all this is about?” General Plo asked quietly as he strode in, coming to stand between Wolffe and Comet in the hopes of preventing further bloodshed. “Commander, did you say this to my padawan?”

Wolffe winced as the severity of the question hit home. He’d seen how the General reacted to people who’d hurt the men under his command… but he’d hurt you. His padawan.

His silence drew on long enough that Comet huffed derisively and answered for him. “It’s what they told us, sir. Wolffe was there when they woke and said he didn’t ask to be saved—“

“ _Comet_.” The General’s voice was sterner than they’d ever heard it before as he chastised the other trooper. After Comet let out a sullen apology, the Jedi turned back towards Wolffe, his gaze searing despite the goggles that blocked his eyes. “Wolffe. Is this true?”

Wolffe nodded stiffly. “Yessir.”

He’d never felt smaller than he did in that moment as Plo Koon stared at him silently.

“Boost, thank you for bringing this to my attention, but I must ask the three of you to leave us for a moment. Wolffe and I need to have a discussion.”

The three troopers filed quietly out of the room, although Comet did leave Wolffe with one last glare as he turned to look back just before the door slid shut behind him. Despite his brother’s well-deserved anger, Wolffe almost wished they hadn’t left him alone. He didn’t know if he could handle the General’s ire and disappointment by himself— even if he only had himself to blame for it.

“Wolffe.” The General’s voice and heavy hand coming to rest on his shoulder coaxed him to look up and face the Jedi. “Why would you say such a thing to my padawan?”

There was no playing games with the General. He was always able to see through Wolffe’s mask.

“They… they were hurt because they were close to me, General,” he said in a low and defeated voice. “My job is to keep them safe— I’m supposed to keep them safe and they almost died for me and I didn’t ask for that, I didn’t _want_ that—“ He took a shaky breath to try and ground himself again. “I should’ve been hurt, not them.”

General Plo’s other hand reaches out to grasp Wolffe’s other shoulder, knowing he needed enough space to breathe but more physical contact to keep himself from falling apart. “Wolffe. It is never within our power to control another’s choices, even if they go against our own wishes.” The Kel Dor paused for a moment to let his words sink in before continuing. “My padawan _knows_ you would never ask another to sacrifice themselves for you, and yet, they were willing to risk their life for yours anyways. It was their choice, and while I know you feel anger and helplessness from it… you should not make them feel shame for their choice.”

“But sir, I’m just a clone, and they almost died in my place…!”

General Plo scoffed. “Forgive me, Commander. I was under the belief that you are Wolffe of the 104th battalion.”

“…I am.”

“I was not aware there was another Commander of the 104th in the GAR: that another man had fought Ventress and lived to tell the tale, had survived the destruction of the Malevolence and lived to aid others, who led the aptly named Wolfpack and who I entrust routinely with my men when I am away on other duties.” The General’s tone turned sly with amusement once he saw Wolffe’s embarrassed expression and knew his point had hit home. “Or is that not you?”

“…It’s me, sir.” His mismatched gaze finally rose enough to lock onto the General’s.

“You are one of a kind, Wolffe. It does not matter that your genetic material is shared amongst millions of others. They do not have your heart or spirit.” General Plo’s voice turned wry. “Or, as it would seem, your way with words.”

Wolffe visibly winced. “I didn’t mean to hurt them more, sir. I just…”

“Reacted?”

The floor looked very interesting once again. “Yessir.”

“While it is one of your strengths, now we also see how it can be a weakness,” the General mused. “However, Comet is correct in that you are the only one who will be able to mend this— both the situation and my padawan’s heart.”

“I know. I will.” His words were heavy with the sincerity of his vow.

“I have faith in you, Commander.” General Plo tightened his grip on Wolffe’s shoulders momentarily before releasing him and beginning to stride back towards the door. “I’m afraid you are needed briefly at your station, but after that, I would highly suggest paying the medbay a visit once more.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You plan your escape.

The medbay is too quiet.

Comet and Sinker has stayed by your side as you cried yourself to sleep, but now that you’re awake and alone, your thoughts seemed to be spiraling out of control. Every interaction you’d had with Wolffe replays in your mind as you search for what you’d done to cause such strong feelings of hatred from him. It must’ve been something public, because you knew whatever it was had caused the majority of the troopers to keep away from you as well.

Maybe if you figure it out, you’d be able to keep from making the same mistake with anyone else.

You turn over onto your side with a wince and a sigh. The words that had spilled out of you earlier when confiding in your friends had been something you’d mulled over for weeks now. Guilt twinges in your chest as you remembered the distraught look on Sinker’s face when you said it:

_“I think I’m going to transfer back to the Jedi Temple to help in the Halls of Healing. Maybe I won’t be in the way there.”_

As much as you value Comet and Boost and Sinker’s support and friendship while with the 104th… it’s clear you’re no longer welcome here. They’ll do better off without you.

And the sooner you get out of the medbay, the sooner you can start preparing to leave.

It’s a good thing you’re trained as a medic, because you’re able to easily unhook yourself from the several drips and machines that are tracking your vitals and helping stabilize you. You can survive without them, though. They’re mainly there to help ease the strain on your own reserves as you heal, but you’d feel more secure in the privacy and safety of your personal quarters right now.

At least there you could be left alone for your final night onboard.

You make sure to leave your medbay room in an easy state for the on-duty troopers to clean. The sheets are pulled off and left in a neat pile at the foot of the bed, the machines are turned off and returned to their places along the walls— even the extra chairs are put back in their rightful position.

By the time you slip out the door on unsteady feet, it’s as if you were never there.

———————

Shifts were always unpredictable, so it took Wolffe longer than initially expected to be free of his duties long enough to pay the medbay a visit. General Plo’s admonishments were still ringing in his ears as a guiding hand: he could do this. He could fix things with you. He just had to be honest with himself and you.

Heat was back on duty and nodded at him in relief when Wolffe entered the wing. “Wolffe. Glad to see you’re back.”

Wolffe closed his eyes briefly before half-heartedly lifting one shoulder. “I’m here to see the Commander.”

Heat rolled his eyes but gestures down the hall. “I know. Their room is the same, but they might be asleep— under no circumstances are you allowed to wake them up. They need rest.”

“Of course,” he acknowledged before retracing his earlier steps to your medbay suite. He paused for a moment to collect himself before hitting the panel to gain entry—

And was met with a darkened and empty room.

He didn’t have to step foot inside to know you were gone. Instead, he rushed back down to Heat’s station.

“Heat, you said they were still in the original room?” It was always best to double check first, in case there’d been a miscommunication.

His brother’s brow furrowed in clear confusion. “Yes… they were asleep when I did my last check—“

“They’re gone,” Wolffe cut him off gruffly, his posture beginning to tense with panic. “The room is cleaned and empty.”

Heat swore loudly, drawing the attention of a few other on-duty medics as he raised his wrist communicator and activated it. “This is CMO Heat, requesting General Koon.”

The line was silent for several seconds before crackling to life. _“This is General Koon.”_

“General, your padawan has been discovered missing from the medbay,” Heat said, getting right to the point. “Commander Wolffe and I wanted to check if you’ve seen them before we called a ship-wise search.”

 _“Hm. Just a moment, men.”_ If Wolffe hadn’t undergone ARC training, he would’ve begun tapping his foot in impatience. _“I do not think a search will be necessary at this time,”_ the General finally said, his voice both amused and concerned at the same time. _“Commander Wolffe, might I suggest you go check the fourth level corridors near the front of the ship? I sense they are located in that area. Thank you.”_

Heat looked up at Wolffe, perplexed. “The fourth level?”

Wolffe was already spinning on his heel to rush to where General Plo had suggested. “It’s where their quarters are located!” He responded over his shoulder before turning the corner and dashing off down the halls, hoping to reach you in time before anything happened to you.

He wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers. Not when he’d finally come so close.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He finally finds you, but you're a bit out of reach.

He finds you slumped against the wall just down the hall from your door, and Wolffe rushes forward in a dead sprint to reach your side. He carefully turns you over so you’re facing him, his hand cradling your cheek as you blink blearily up at him.

He tries to keep himself from flinching at your broken voice. “You’re… this is not real.” You sigh as you shut your eyes again and lean into the warmth of his palm. “But I’d like it to last just a little longer.”

“ _Cyar’ika_ …” The word spills from his lips unbidden, but Wolffe cannot find it in himself to try and snatch it back. The least he can do is let you hear it for however long you let him remain alongside him. “Let me take you back the the medbay, you need help–”

You let out a small sound of disagreement. “I have… I have to get my things. Commander Wolffe… he doesn’t want me here anymore.”

He presses his forehead against yours, hoping the contact will help draw you back to reality. “That’s not true,” he says softly but firmly, his thumb stroking your cheek until you finally open your eyes again in confusion. “I’ve always wanted you here. I just wanted you to be safe.” He thinks he sees your gaze clear a bit and continues on, hoping his admission will help ground you. “I was selfish. I pushed you away because I thought it would keep you safer. If you didn’t care about me, then you wouldn’t be in as much danger.” He looks down, unable to meet your stare as guilt washes over him again. “I was wrong. I hurt you, and I’m so sorry.”

He glances back up when you breathe his name, and he is thankful to find you’re looking more aware of your surroundings with every passing moment. “My room. Can you help me get there?”

Although he wants to protest and take you straight back to the medbay, he knows he can’t deny you. He wraps one arm around your waist and helps you wrap your legs around his waist before his other arm reaches around your back so your face is tucked into the crevice of his neck. He can barely believe how relatively light you are when he stands up, and he easily carries you the rest of the way to your room. Luckily, his Commander override code works on the keypad, and he brings you inside once the door slides open, turning on the lights before setting you gently on your bed.

“My lightsaber…?” You quietly ask, and he looks around before seeing it resting on your desk and fetching it for you. He can hear you hum happily as he sets it in your hands and watches as the weapon shakily raises to float above your palm, separating into pieces that move to rest by your feet until a glowing crystal remains and falls into your hand. “My kyber crystal helps me meditate,” you murmur, “and focus more when trying to channel the Force for healing.”

“It’s beautiful,” Wolffe replies, even though he knows his own focus is not on the crystal, but rather on the way your face is bathed in its soft light.

There’s a small smile on your face when you look up at him. “It’s much quieter in here, without all the machines.”

Wolffe nodded. “I never was fond of the medbay either,” he allows.

“I know.” His brow furrows at your light tone and the way you begin to sway as you try to stay seated upright, and he moves forward to grasp your shoulders and keep you steady. “I remember.” Wolffe’s world tilts on its axis at your casual statement, but he pushes his questions aside for the time being as you slump forward slightly. “I need… to rest so I can heal.” Your voice becomes small as you peer up at Wolffe. “Will you stay?”

He doesn’t trust himself not to kark things up, so Wolffe lets his actions answer for him as he lifts you just enough to pull down the sheets and lay you down gently on your bed. His fingers linger briefly in your hair while he shifts a pillow to support your head comfortably, and then he focuses on stripping his armor quietly to not further disturb you. He leaves it in a neat pile next to the loose parts of your lightsaber and carefully climbs in to lie beside you, pulling the sheets over you both.

You appear to already be asleep, so Wolffe keeps some space between your bodies, content to remain your silent protector while you rest.

He’ll remain until you wake again. He owes you his life– it’s the least he can do.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past isn't what it always seems to be.

You come back to the waking world slowly, your head slightly foggy but not enough to distract from the steady warmth enveloping you. Your hands are curled loosely, pressed up against the firm source of the heat, and you let your head fall forward as you instinctively shift closer.

This new position causes something to tickle against your left cheek. It happens every other moment or so, coinciding with the rise and fall of the chest beneath your palms–

Your eyes fly wide open at the realization as the blurry memories all come rushing back to you. You’d thought it’d just been a dream, something your brain had conjured up to force your body to rest and relax.

But the sight before you in the dim light is no hallucination.

Wolffe’s peaceful face is illuminated by the light of your kyber crystal that lays on the pillow between you and him. He looks so young like this, his stress and worries washed off his features while he sleeps. You can’t help but slide one of your hands up to softly caress his jaw, to really confirm that this isn’t some trick of the Force. Your touch has the last of the tension in his brow dissolving, and you have to hold in a surprised squeak as his arm tightens its hold on your waist and pulls you even closer to him.

He may still be asleep, but his unconscious desire to hold you more securely in response to your physical affection brings tears to your eyes.

He’s so tranquil, in this secluded hollow of your room. And warm. He radiates life and safety.

You wonder if this is how you would’ve felt in his arms if you were conscious when he carried you off the battlefield.

As your eyes begin to drift shut again, you become afraid that when he wakes up– when you wake up– you’ll be alone again.

But your kyber whispers happily in a corner of your mind, and it’s never led you astray before.

Your hand splays protectively above Wolffe’s heart as you succumb to sleep once more.

* * *

When you wake again, your instinctual reaction is to whine disappointedly and hide your face against Wolffe’s chest, feeling how sore you still are from your healing injuries and hoping to avoid the sensation in sleep once more. But this time, your movement doesn’t have him pulling you closer.

Instead, you feel his arm slowly unravel from around your waist, and coax you backwards so there is space between your bodies once more. The distance means you can now look at each other, something that is important for the conversation you know is coming, and yet… the gentle rejection is also a reminder of the constant ache in your chest that existed due to Wolffe always pushing you away.

“It’s ironic,” you mumble to yourself, your eyes holding steady on his chest. If you look up at his expression, you’re afraid you’ll finally break.

“What is?” His voice is rougher than normal from sleep, but he keeps his tone on the same soft level as yours.

You bring your hand up to wipe at your eyes before finally tilting your head back to look at him. His eyes are intent, but the rest of him is guarded as he waits for you to answer.

“That the only time you let me close to you is when one of us is gravely injured,” you chuckle emptily, your gaze automatically flickering to the long scar slicing down his face. Part of you longs to reach out and touch it, but you don’t want to scare him away.

Wolffe’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You pause, unsure now of your next words. “In… in the Halls of Healing. At the Temple?”

Wolffe seemed even more confused. “I was unconscious while the healers worked on me there. I woke up only after being transported to a recovery ward.”

“Wolffe…” You can’t help the shock that floods your body at his recollection. “You were in the Halls of Healing for two weeks. I was one of your main Healers.” Your chest begins to feel tight, and you try to focus on the soothing thrum of your kyber crystal as you force yourself to continue. “The trauma from your injury was severe, the leas Healers had to operate several times, and once more after your body initially rejected your cyber implant. I— I was there the entire time to keep you stable.”

You press your lips together, hating yourself at being the one to explain such painful things to him as you see the effect each additional word you say has on the commander. “I was there when you first woke up. You smiled up at me and said you didn’t expect…”

He urges you on after your voice dies off in anguish. “I said what?”

“You said that you didn’t expect death to have such a warm embrace.”

You finally stop talking now, both because you’re not sure if you can continue and you think it’s best that Wolffe isn’t any more overwhelmed.

“I thought that was a dream,” he says after several silent moments. “I just remember… feeling safe. I didn’t…”

Your hand is moving to cup his cheek in an attempt to comfort him before you even realize, but luckily you regain your senses before you can touch him without his consent. “Do you mind if I…?”

Wolffe’s gaze is filled with an emotion you can’t identify. “I’ve never let anyone else touch my scar,” he admits, nervousness bleeding through in his tone.

You stare at him emotionlessly, not wanting to let the swirling feelings within you affect him in this moment of self-discovery as you reach slowly towards his face. He sucks in his breath as your fingers brush against his temple but he doesn’t flinch, not even as you leave a warm trail against his skin while lightly tracing the length of his scar.

“You may not remember the last time I did this, but your body hasn’t forgotten who guided you down the path of healing.” He unfreezes when you draw your hand away and let it fall limply onto the sheets between you, your shoulders slumping as you try to smile. “It’s funny how you pushed away the only person you ever let in.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just uploaded chapters 4-9 all at once, in case you need to know what to read!

_“It’s funny how you pushed away the only person you ever let in.”_

It isn’t often that Wolffe finds himself struck entirely speechless, but as he looks at your vulnerable expression, he is unable to vocalize any words. Part of his mind is too busy being overwhelmed by the tingling sensation left on his face from your touch, while the other half of him is screaming for your gentle caress to return to his skin and never leave again.

He’s been so selfish towards you already, but old habits die hard. Now that he’s done trying to push you away, all he wants is to keep you as close as possible. He wants what he’s denied himself for so long, even though he has no right to call you his.

Instead of taking taking _taking_ , he tries his best to give you the same level of affection you’d gifted him. He cautiously brings his hand up to cup your jaw, his thumb sweeping slowly across your cheek. He can’t hold in a slight smirk as he feels your face heat up beneath his fingertips in response, but it fades as he remembers the severity of your current conversation.

“Even when I’ve hurt you, you try and share your warmth with me,” he murmurs, thumb moving to rest beneath your lower lip to emphasize the fact that he’s talking about the wobbly smile you’d graced him with only moments ago. “I’m so sorry, cyar’ika. You deserve so much better than me… than anything I can give you.” His tone is mournful, because he knows that this will be the only time you let him in after how coldly he’s treated you.

He doesn’t expect your eyes to flutter shut and both of your hands to cover his, anchoring him to you.

“Life isn’t always about what we deserve,” you reply. “It’s about what we want and if we’re willing to fight for it.” You shift his hand over and turn your head at the same time so you can press a featherlight kiss against his roughened palm, and Wolffe momentarily forgets how to breathe. “What is it that you want, Wolffe?”

He doesn’t think twice before answering. “I want you to live,” he blurts out, cringing at his rapid response but urging himself to plow on. “I want you to survive this war. I want you to heal. I want…” He growls under his breath at his ingrained difficulty with being honest about his feelings, both to you and himself. “I want you to be happy. I want to be the reason _why_ you’re happy.”

When he sees the tears building up in the corners of your eyes, Wolffe clamps his mouth shut, afraid he’s said something wrong as usual. He isn’t prepared for what you have to say.

“You already make me happy, Wolffe. Just being near you has been enough for me.”

“Enough for you, but not what you truly wanted,” Wolffe sighs as he shifts his body so he can move his arm pressed against the sheets until his other hand is cupping the other side of your face. “What do you want, _cyare_?” He dutifully swipes away the tears that now fall free onto your cheeks.

“I want you, Wolffe. You’re all I’ve ever wanted—” You’re cut off as Wolffe swoops forward and presses his lips to yours, stealing your voice and your coherency as he kisses you. Your lips are so soft under his, and the little gasp you let out has Wolffe humming with pride as he coaxes your mouth open further, wanting to give and take from you as much as he can.

He’s always been better with actions anyways.

One of his hands slides down to your neck to hold you steady, and he can feel your pulse beating wildly when you moan against him. Your fingers trail down his skin to clench at his forearms, and Wolffe immediately begins to pull away, thinking you want space.

He doesn’t expect you to take a quick breath before pulling him back to you so you can take control this time, but he isn’t about to complain. He’s willing to lose himself in your touch forever if the universe only would grant him an eternity with you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally find what you've been looking for.

Wolffe kisses you. Wolffe wants you, he wants you to be safe, to be happy–

Your mind whirls as you lose yourself in his touch. The earlier urgency to your actions had faded into slower, longer caresses as you explore each other, your hands mapping out each other’s bodies as you haven’t been able to pull your mouth from his for longer than to take a breath. It was like once he’d started, once he finally was allowed to have you, he wasn’t able to stop. Your head has gone fuzzy from his affection and you’re sure you’re drifting somewhere in a daydream, because your heart feels as if it is about to burst through your chest, and everything is so perfect, but he’s really here and with you– 

Air. That was probably a good idea. You let out a cross between a sigh and a whine as you draw away, and it turns into a laugh as Wolffe chases after your lips instinctively. You stop him by pressing your fingertips to his swollen lips, which he bestows a soft kiss upon as you both recover with heaving chests.

“Hi,” you say shyly, gazing up at him through hooded eyelids.

He appears just as dazed as you and hums as he pulls you closer against him in response. “Are you alright?” He asks, one hand stroking up and down your back as you sink into his warmth. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Never been better,” you promise, trying to snuggle even closer to him despite the fact that your entire front is already touching him and your legs are tangled together.

“Good,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice without even having to look up. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

You’re content to just stay here forever, never leaving the safe haven that you’ve created with him in your room, but a tingling at the back of your mind quickly snaps you out of that fantasy. The sensation is one you’re used to after feeling it for the many years of your training, and yet Plo’s tug on your bond now is even more startling than the first time he’d done it so long ago. It reminds you of the reality of your situation, and you hurriedly try to pry yourself away from Wolffe and get out of the bed, because you can now feel that your master is _right outside your door–_

“Hey, hey,” Wolffe immediately is sitting up next to you, his hands on your upper arms to try and cease your motions. “You gotta take it easy, you’re still healing.”

You know he’s right. The pain lancing across your side at how suddenly you’d moved is a stark reminder of that, but your mind is still panicking. “But Wolffe, it’s Master Plo! He’s just outside, in the hallway.”

Wolffe’s face goes slack but you can see his resolve set in after only a moment of consideration. “It’ll be alright,” he says, running his hands up and down your arms to help calm you. “I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

It takes a moment for what he’s said to actually register in your mind, but he’s already up and moving across the room by then. “No, Wolffe, wait!”

But it’s no use. The door is already sliding open, and Wolffe falls into a respectful parade rest as he stands aside. “General.”

“Commander.” Master Plo’s voice is filled with amusement as he enters the room and first turns to you. “Padawan-mine, how are you feeling?”

You’ve shifted to sit up and move to stand, but he holds a taloned hand up placatingly. “Please, relax. It is alright.”

“No, Master,” you try and explain, but your thoughts are all jumbled by the adrenaline rush. “Wolffe did nothing wrong, I take full responsibility!”

You can feel Master Plo send a pulse through your bond, but you’re too worked up to focus on it. “Calm yourself, young one. No one is in any trouble.” He slips both hands into his draped robe sleeves as he continues. “I was merely concerned, given your flight from the medbay... and since Wolffe missed his shift on the bridge.”

Wolffe jerks as if he’s been struck. “General, I apologize–”

“No need,” Master Plo reassures him. “You’ve had more important matters to tend to.”

Wolffe pulls his shoulders back and tilts his chin up confidently and defiantly. “Yes sir, I did.”

“Good.” You can feel Master Plo’s masked gaze turns back towards you. “I will not make you return to the medbay, but you know better than I how important it is for you to rest and heal.” You can’t help but nod in agreement. “If I leave you under the care of the Commander, will you agree to remain here and call Medic Heat if you need further care?” He looks down after you nod in acceptance, and you find yourself following his gaze. You feel your cheeks heat up when you realize the parts of your lightsaber are still all in a neat pile beside your bed. 

“My kyber crystal helps me meditate when I have it with me,” you offer weakly as an explanation.

“Do not be ashamed if it helps you, padawan,” your master says gently, resting a hand on top of your head. “These are dark times. Anything that helps keep us whole is something to be cherished.”

You know he isn’t talking about your crystal anymore. “Thank you, Master.”

“Of course, young one.” His voice is cheery, and this time your response to his mental nudge against your bond. “I’ll leave you to rest. Commander.” He stops beside Wolffe, and a silent conversation must pass between the two men, given the intensity that falls over them. Wolffe merely nods in response before your master leaves the room, the door sliding shut after him.

“Wolffe?” You find yourself reaching out to him without even realizing, and he’s at your side in an instant. He remains still as you lean towards him and wrap your arms around his waist, letting your head come forward to rest against his abdomen.

“What is it, _cyare_?” He asks softly, his voice rumbling in his chest as he strokes your hair.

You were loath to break the peaceful silence that has settled around you, but you need to get your words out before sleep reclaims you once again. “I love you,” you say sheepishly, hiding your face against his body. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

You would’ve been content to fall into a healing trance then and there, knowing you’d been fully honest with him and that he was here with you.

But his hands gently push you away from him and he crouches down to cup your face in his warm hands, his eyes searching your face for something. He must find what he’s looking for, because you can see the moment that his brow softens just before he guides you forward so your forehead presses against his. You let out a content sigh, your hands coming up to link your fingers behind his neck and hold him to you.

“ _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_ ,” he murmurs back. “I love you, too.” He shifts a bit so his lips can brush against yours. “Now rest, _cyare_. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

* * *

_ He is. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🥰 i hope y'all enjoyed this little journey with our favorite clone commander! Thank you so much for all the love and support.


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